


To Keep Me from the Rain

by reginamea



Category: The Good Wife (TV)
Genre: F/F, Pre-Slash, UST
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-22
Updated: 2014-05-22
Packaged: 2018-01-26 02:53:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1672013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reginamea/pseuds/reginamea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Come on," she says. The soft pressure of Kalinda’s hand on her arm propels Alicia forward almost effortlessly. "It's been a long couple of days,” Kalinda offers as they fall into step, “I'd say this calls for a strong drink." She lifts her eyes to meet Alicia's, one corner of her mouth rising just barely. "Or maybe two or three?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Keep Me from the Rain

**Author's Note:**

> set toward the end of season 1

"We did our job," Will says flatly in a tone that reveals no emotions over the defeat they have just suffered. His eyes sweep Alicia’s face, an unspoken communication that she cannot follow and a message she cannot decipher. When she blinks, he nods.

“We did our job and that is all that matters," he says and walks past her, his elbow brushing hers. She turns and watches him leave and what Alicia really wants to do is rage and scream at his retreating back, right into his face, but instead she just stands and watches him walk away, his back broad and upright.

On the inside, Alicia fumes, silently; they have lost their case! She is still in half-hearted denial about it. Over the past weeks, she has invested so much, has worked so hard and slept so little that, now that it is over, she simply cannot fathom how Will can just shrug his shoulders and be done with it as though he had not invested just as much as Alicia, as if he had not really cared at all. Maybe, she thinks, he never did.

Silent footsteps carry Kalinda into the periphery of her vision as the younger woman moves to stand beside her, watching quietly as Will rounds a corner and moves out of their sight. Alicia shakes her head, like waking from a trance.

"It's not enough," she whispers under her breath and rakes a hand through her hair out of sheer frustration. She momentarily forgets about the folders still tucked under her arm. It is Kalinda who catches them half-way before they hit the floor, a few sheets spilling out. Kalinda bends to pick them up and then shifts the bundle to her side, wrapping the fingers of her free hand around Alicia's elbow.

"Come on," she says. The soft pressure of Kalinda’s hand on her arm propels Alicia forward almost effortlessly. "It's been a long couple of days,” Kalinda offers as they fall into step, “I'd say this calls for a strong drink." She lifts her eyes to meet Alicia's, one corner of her mouth rising just barely. "Or maybe two or three?"

*

Kalinda leads her to a small dimly light bar just around the corner of the court house. The service is quick and the drinks are strong and Alicia has to admit that, for a mere moment, she is exceedingly tempted to simply throw her principles to the wind and drink herself into a stupor. When that moment has passed, however, she clings to her one glass of bourbon and soda instead.

She tells herself it is because she is a responsible human being, a mother, and a hard-working lawyer who has to be at work early tomorrow morning. But she does have to admit that watching Kalinda raise a slender hand to order one more vodka tonic-no ice makes her want to knock back her own drink, catch up with Kalinda, and forget everything about being responsible and whatnot.

Then she thinks of Will and of their case that no longer is and the spark of anger tinged with disappointment rekindles into a bright flame that makes her fingers clench around her glass as she lifts it to her mouth for another sip. It is this burning that she later blames for inducing her to hand her suddenly empty glass to the waiter as he brings Kalinda’s vodka tonic, demanding a new one, double, straight, in return.

Kalinda’s eyes sparkle. “I thought you said you were being responsible tonight,” she says and shifts her feet under the table. “Where’s your responsibility now?”

Alicia, in return, just shrugs and waves in the general direction of the waiter. “I left it in my empty glass in exchange for another drink,” she says and if she notices Kalinda’s eyes shining just a little brighter at her words she decides to ignore it. It comes so easy to her these days, ignoring things instead of acknowledging them for whatever truth they might entail.

Kalinda seems to accept her change of heart without further argument and merely dips her head in acknowledgement. Alicia is grateful for that; this way she can just raise her glass, toast to Kalinda, and close her eyes as the sharp sting of her second bourbon washes down her throat. She enjoys the temporary burn that settles in her stomach along with the bourbon, the burst of warmth now spreading into her limbs, into the very tips of her fingers.

For a second, everything around her disappears; everything is silent, pleasant; she feels grounded, if only for a short while. Then her eyes flutter open again and the world comes crashing back in without mercy.

Something draws her attention toward the bar and when she looks she finds their waiter staring back at her with a barely-concealed hunger and obvious intentions. The sight startles her so that for an endless moment her eyes flicker hectically between the floor and his face before she dares to look at him, properly, for the first time tonight.

He is tall and wonderfully dark, clean-shaven and so young that the way he keeps smiling at her already borders on ridiculous. But his eyes sparkle under the locks of black hair hanging a little too low on his forehead and his smile reveals impeccable white teeth that make the persisting burn in Alicia’s stomach settle just a bit further south. He has all the charming quirks and qualities she would fall for were she just twenty years younger and unattached.

“Don’t.” Kalinda’s soft voice pulls Alicia out of her reverie. She snaps her eyes back to the younger woman across the table, a questioning look on her face.

“Don’t even think about it,” Kalinda elaborates and sets her glass down on the polished table with just enough force that the clinking of glass on wood is louder than normal, a warning sound. One corner of Kalinda’s lips is lifted in what could pass as a smirk and Alicia finds the sight slightly unnerving.

“Excuse me?” Alicia blinks. The wheels in her mind are spinning and she straightens in her seat, uncrossing and re-crossing her arms in front of her. “Are you admonishing me?”

Kalinda shifts her feet again; for a moment her smirk falters as she brushes against Alicia’s legs, and Alicia can feel the haste with which Kalinda removes them again.

“You don’t want a boy toy who is barely older than your own son,” Kalinda continues, her smirk now back and firmly in place. Their eyes meet and hold, and for the second time that day Alicia has the feeling that she is missing out on something, that something is being said that she is not aware of, that something is being communicated to her that she cannot understand. It makes Alicia uneasy and she averts her eyes, clutching her glass in a grip that starts to drain the blood from her knuckles after mere seconds. She takes another sip and then pushes the glass away, clearing her throat.

“I don’t want a boy toy,” Alicia states before trailing off, irritated by Kalinda’s implication but more so by the truth it contains. She cannot deny it. She reaches for her glass again and pulls it to rest in front of her, like a shield, like an anchor.

“Not when you have a husband waiting at home,” Kalinda says and she appears to be finishing the sentence with what Alicia has left unsaid before. Alicia shakes her head, then nods; Kalinda is right.

“Speaking of which,” Kalinda speaks up suddenly, her tone almost conversational. “How is he doing?” Alicia looks up at the words and for an instance she is certain to detect something flitting across Kalinda’s face. Then Alicia blinks and it is gone again and Kalinda’s face is still and clear and unreadable as it always is.

Alicia says, “He’s adapting,” and watches for any reaction behind Kalinda’s eyes that might tell Alicia why the younger woman is bringing up Peter now. Alicia has come to know Kalinda well enough over the past months, and Kalinda does not do conversational.

Kalinda’s eyes are serious as she nods. She seems to be contemplating Alicia’s words for one silent moment before she leans forward and folds her hands on the table between them.

“Are you?” she asks and Alicia finds she breathes a little more freely now that she thinks she understands where Kalinda is coming from; she thinks she hears a trace of concern in Kalinda’s voice and she cannot help but find this adorable because Kalinda is always so careful not to let any emotions show that she does not want people to see.

“I’m fine,” Alicia says and her smile is open and gentle. She leans forward and reaches out, resting one hand on Kalinda’s folded hands in a gesture meant to convey her gratitude through more than just the simple “Thank you” she whispers under her breath.

It takes a moment or two but then Alicia can see an answering smile appearing on Kalinda’s face. Silence falls over them and finally Alicia understands the unspoken words passing between them, floating loud and clear in the air around them. She enjoys it in a way she had never thought possible, this silent understanding.

*

When they bid goodnight later that night Alicia feels the steady thrum of pleasant low-key euphoria thrumming through her veins. They are both catching cabs and Alicia is more than willing to share. When she offers, though, Kalinda quietly declines. Instead she helps Alicia into the first cab, her hand steady on Alicia’s lower back.

Alicia imagines she can still feel the heated imprint of Kalinda’s fingers long after they have parted ways and she lies in bed, the sounds of Peter’s snoring wafting through the apartment walls.

 

FIN


End file.
